"I did allow for the swiftness of the current," said he, in reply to a criticism of mine, "but those old beeves just drifted downstream like a lot of big tubs.The horses swam it easy, and the first hundred cattle struck the mouth of the wash square in the eye, but after that they misunderstood it for a bath instead of a ford.Oh, well, it's live and learn, die and forget it.But since you're so d-- strong on the sabe, suppose you suggest a way of getting those beeves out of the river.
It was impossible to bring them back, and the only alternative was attempted.About three quarters of a mile down the river the cut-bank shifted to the south side.If the cattle could swim that distance there was an easy landing below.The beeves belonged to Forrest's herd, and I declined the proffered leadership, but plans were outlined and we started the work of rescue.Only a few men were left to look after the main herds, the remainder of us swimming the river on our horses.One man was detailed to drive the contingent which had safely forded, down to the point where the bluff bank shifted and the incline commenced on the north shore.The cattle were clinging, in small bunches, under the cut-bank like swallows to a roof for fully a quarter-mile below the month of the dry wash.Divesting ourselves of all clothing, a squad of six of us, by way of experiment, dropped over the bank and pushed into the river about twenty of the lowest cattle.On catching the full force of the current, which ran like a mill-race, we swept downstream at a rapid pace, sometimes clinging to a beef's tail, but generally swimming between the cattle and the bluff.The force of the stream drove them against the bank repeatedly, but we dashed water in their eyes and pushed them off again and again, and finally landed every steer.
The Big Cheyenne was a mountain stream, having numerous tributaries heading in the Black Hills.The water was none too warm, and when we came out the air chilled us; but we scaled the bluff and raced back after more cattle.Forrest was in the river on our return, but I ordered his wrangler to drive all the horses under saddle down to the lauding, in order that the men could have mounts for returning.This expedited matters, and the work progressed more rapidly.Four separate squads were drifting the cattle, but in the third contingent we cut off too many beeves and came near drowning two fine ones.The animals in question were large and strong, but had stood for nearly an hour on a slippery ledge, frequently being crowded into the water, and were on the verge of collapse from nervous exhaustion.They were trembling like leaves when we pushed them off.Runt Pickett was detailed to look especially after those two, and the little rascal nursed and toyed and played with them like a circus rider.
They struggled constantly for the inshore, but Runt rode their rumps alternately, the displacement lifting their heads out of the water to good advantage.When we finally landed, the two big fellows staggered out of the river and dropped down through sheer weakness, a thing which I had never seen before except in wild horses.
A number of the boys were attacked by chills, and towards evening had to be excused for fear of cramps.By six o'clock we were reduced to two squads, with about fifty cattle still remaining in the river.Forrest and I had quit the water after the fourth trip; but Quince had a man named De Manse, a Frenchman, who swam like a wharf-rat and who stayed to the finish, while I turned my crew over to Runt Pickett.The latter was raised on the coast of Texas, and when a mere boy could swim all day, with or without occasion.Dividing the remaining beeves as near equally as possible, Runt's squad pushed off slightly in advance of De Manse, the remainder of us riding along the bank with the horses and clothing, and cheering our respective crews.The Frenchman was but a moment later in taking the water, and as pretty and thrilling a race as I ever witnessed was in progress.The latter practiced a trick, when catching a favorable current, of dipping the rump of a steer, thus lifting his fore parts and rocking him forward like a porpoise.When a beef dropped to the rear, this process was resorted to, and De Manse promised to overtake Pickett.From our position on the bank, we shouted to Runt to dip his drag cattle in swift water; but amid the din and splash of the struggling swimmers our messages failed to reach his ears.De Manse was gaining slowly, when Pickett's bunch were driven inshore, a number of them catching a footing, and before they could be again pushed off, the Frenchman's cattle were at their heels.A number of De Manse's men were swimming shoreward of their charges, and succeeded in holding their beeves off the ledge, which was the last one before the landing.The remaining hundred yards was eddy water; and though Pickett fought hard, swimming among the Frenchman's lead cattle, to hold the two bunches separate, they mixed in the river.As an evidence of victory, however, when the cattle struck a foothold, Runt and each of his men mounted a beef and rode out of the water some distance.As the steers recovered and attempted to dislodge their riders, they nimbly sprang from their backs and hustled themselves into their ragged clothing.
